<html> <head> <title>Raido</title> <link href="./style.css" rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" title="main" media="all"> <meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1.0"> <link rel="icon" href="../img/runes/raido.svg"> </head> <body> <p class="center"><a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Runic_letter_raido.svg"><img src="../img/runes/raido.svg" alt="Raido rune" title="Raido rune"></a></p> <h1>Raido</h1> <p>Traditional meaning: riding</p> <p>Meanings when upright:</p> <ul> <li>movement from one state of being to another</li> <li>escaping from trouble</li> <li>arising after spiritual descent</li> <li>unstoppable force</li> <li>time to decide on something of great importance</li> <li>a person involved with the law or transportation</li> </ul> <p>Meanings when inverted:</p> <ul> <li>draining someone's energy</li> <li>misleading business dealings (when paired with Ansuz)</li> <li>a change in direction</li> <li>hard times are ahead</li> <li>spiritual boredom from rigid/stifling routines</li> </ul> <p>Raido can be useful for:</p> <ul> <li>pushing over obstacles</li> <li>riding the waves of realization/awakening further</li> <li>getting oneself out of a rut</li> <li>obtaining justice</li> </ul> <hr> <p>Anglo-Saxon rune poem:</p> <blockquote>Rad byþ on recyde rinca gehwylcum<br>sefte ond swiþhwæt, ðamðe sitteþ on ufan<br>meare mægenheardum ofer milpaþas.</blockquote> <blockquote>Riding seems easy to every warrior while he is indoors<br>and very courageous to him who traverses the high-roads<br>on the back of a stout horse.</blockquote> <p>Norwegian rune poem:</p> <blockquote>Ræið kveða rossom væsta;<br>Reginn sló sværðet bæzta.</blockquote> <blockquote>Riding is said to be the worst thing for horses;<br>Reginn forged the finest sword.</blockquote> <p>A modern poem:</p> <blockquote> <p>I promised Luce as she sat up on high<br/> that I would make it out of this house alive,<br/> but it's been nearly four years since<br/> the hasty impassioned words spilled from my lips<br/> and I am no closer to keeping it.</p> <p>I was too inexperienced, not yet downtrod<br/> to forsee the beginning of the Eschaton:<br/> governments imploding, prices the opposite,<br/> men I will never gaze upon my rights rescind.<br/> This room I once viewed as an unbarred jail cell<br/> has become a cocoon, a safe place from hell,<br/> and although I've supped on the sweet taste of wages<br/> there's no way I could these days survive by myself.</p> <p>It's not much of a choice if one bades me decide:<br/> "Run for it and perish, or stay here and die."<br/> Embed myself in a world I'm unequipped for<br/> and die on the streets forgotten and unmoored,<br/> or bury myself deeper in bedsheets every day<br/> until compost sets in and I begin to decay.</p> <p>I'm not sure that I have to make a choice,<br/> today, tomorrow, next week, month, ever.<br/> I could treat it like every other problem<br/> I have: ignore it as it gradually gets worse<br/> and try to live best I can in the meantime.<br/> <strong>But where to steer the boat if I <em>did</em> take the helm?<br/> Where to maraude that won't leave me devoid<br/> of this world in my body, murky depths of the sea<br/> no person can map and certainly not I?</strong><br/> It's been so long since I started drowning<br/> that my neck grew gills and I learned how to breathe.</p> </blockquote> </body> </html>